Art of Inner Suicide

Capitulo Diez

Part 10 of 10: The Foreseen Lurking
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On the 14th of December, the year 1997, I knew I was going to die. Back then, I was in the same room as you- only the two of us.

Like a dead mother's embrace in a once-in-a-blue-moon reverie, you gave me a placid smile. There, once again, I was captured in the lullabies of your lies.

So I drew myself in the arms of a delicate daymare, sniffing the scent of one sunshine stashing the rapid heartbeats of a wrenched wrath.

With the eyes of heavenly warmth, you gazed at me- as if to confirm how true of a naivety's child am I.

Yet, oh Lucifer, darling of hell, by happenstance, I am but a beast like you, not once given grace by the gods.

Your lips touched mine and we both tasted the faint feeling of longing. Within the pleasures of a forbidden act did we lose ourselves- endlessly searching for the gift of bliss.

It was burning, chaotically burning, I was burning in the flames of hell feeling every inch of heaven.

The bud of my flower ready to bloom in the hunger of your holy hands was then blessed by your touch, waiting for you to devour the remains of its long-lost virtue.

And oh bloody goodness, gracious! Its wishes had been heard by your mercy as you slipped your fingers inside, tension building at the very core of this sin. I was drowning in surges of waves, shamelessly holding onto you for dear life.

On that December night which catastrophically clung to the chills of winter, I had been repeatedly revived by you, given new breath like how Da Vinci's paintings came to life- you pushed me to death and back to life just for the sake of it.

You were a celestial moon that stayed with me: a daunting darkness, you embraced me so earnestly that I had become nothing but a teen indulged in the illusion of your idiocy-provoking taste.

But baby you were divine, disastrously divine— a drug mercilessly ruining me every second, every minute, while I enjoy the wretchedness of its wuthering taste.